


And Then I'll Be Free Of The Past

by BlackUnicorn



Series: A Map, Redrawn [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Fix-It, Forgiveness, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Healing, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Third Year, M/M, Nostalgia, POV Remus Lupin, Professor Remus Lupin, Remus Lupin & James Potter Friendship, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sad Remus Lupin, Survivor Guilt, The Marauder's Map
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:40:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackUnicorn/pseuds/BlackUnicorn
Summary: Remus had never thought he'd see Hogwarts again, but here he was, sitting on the Hogwarts Express on his way North. Everything was different now - his three best friends, dead, and the fourth...well...it was better not think of that, wasn't it? Except he had to, now that Sirius had escaped Azkaban and was apparently trying to break into Hogwarts because what if they'd been wrong?What if, indeed...
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: A Map, Redrawn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615663
Comments: 20
Kudos: 475





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a Secret Santa for a friend and decided to share it with the rest of the class. By now, it's part of an entire series, part 2 and 3 are ready and done, part 4 is a WIP but steadily growing and I'll upload everything over the next couple weeks...anyway, enjoy.

The train rattled on.

Remus was aware – in a rather vague, distant sort of way – that he was not alone, and yet, he kept his eyes closed and his mind drifting. Maybe…Yes, maybe, once he’d open them, he’d see _them_ …Peter would be huddled into a corner, a sketchbook resting against his propped up legs, ink stains on his fingertips, his nose, his jumper. James and Sirius would be throwing chocolate frogs into each other’s mouths, or maybe plan the first prank of the year, or maybe bicker about Quidditch, or maybe, or maybe, or maybe…

The train rattled on, the sound, a fading background music, a lullaby, a song that spoke of family, and safe, and _home_.

James’ voice, hushed like a secret.

Someone answering. Was it Sirius? Peter? He couldn’t tell.

There was another person there. Smart and soft, but also strong. Lily must have joined them, then. Or maybe Marlene or Dorcas.

The train – stropped?

Remus shivered, the cold, so painfully familiar, settling into his bones, his heart, his very soul, rousing him from his slumber and he blinked. It was dark in the compartment, _their_ compartment, but… _they_ weren’t here, were they?

Turning his head, Remus’ eyes fell on the boy across from him and even in the twilight of the train he could see it. See him.

_James?_

The name on the tip of his tongue, sweet and rich like the best of Honeyduke’s chocolate but no…not James.

 _It’s not right_ , he thought, _the eyes are not right_.

Not James

The sweetness faded, leaving nothing but a bitter aftertaste and an aching heart.

 _James is gone_ , he reminded himself, _Peter is gone, Sirius is –_

The voices he’d heard before were still there, different now, more real. Confused. Panicked.

“Quiet!” he rasped out, trying to orientate himself in the darkness, to take it all in, to look around and see the children around him, see the clouds of their breaths in the air, “Stay where you are.” He stood up, the quickly conjured fire in his hand filling the compartment with flickering light but before he could reach the door, it slid open, a hooded figure towering over them. A Dementor.

Before Remus could properly think about what that meant, however, the Dementor took a slow, rattling breath and a body hit the floor.

“Harry!” someone cried out.

“None of us are hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks,” he announced to the Dementor. It felt wrong, saying _his_ name again, after all these years. “Go.”

The Dementor did not go. Of course, it didn’t, why would it? The Ministry might have disagreed, but Dementors followed their own rules – always had, always would.

Another breath of the Dementor, the air getting colder and colder still, and Remus could feel himself giving in. He remembered the Bite, his parents’ tears, the pain of his first transformation, bones breaking and skin tearing apart only to knit itself together all twisted and wrong. He remembered the fear of being found out, long, lonely nights in the Shrieking Shack. He remembered the War. He remembered the dead. He remembered Sirius and Peter and James –

James.

_Come on, Moony._

He was still there. Somehow, after twelve years, he was still there.

_You can do it._

He remembered weekends in Hogsmeade, the taste of Butterbeer and the sound of laugher.

He remembered late nights and early mornings in the Common Room, the warmth of the fire.

He remembered seeing a big, majestic stag for the first time, and realising that he was not alone anymore.

“Expecto Patronum.”

For the first time in years a silvery cloud broke from his wand, weak, but within the smoke Remus could still make out the shape of four legs and long, shaggy fur.

 _Damn you, Padfoot_ , he thought just before the Dementor left and the Patronus faded into nothingness and Remus let out a sigh of relieve.

It didn’t take long for the other Dementors to leave the train, clearly not finding what they were looking for and one owl to Hogwarts and several pieces of chocolate later, all the children were back on their feet, more or less feeling okay, or as okay as one could feel after being ambushed by Azkaban’s guards.

Somewhere in the back of Remus’ mind, like an echo, like a shadow, like a distant memory, James scoffed.

_Flash bastard._

_Shut up_ , Remus wanted to say, _you’re just as bad_.

And in his mind, James rolled his eyes and laughed.

The train rattled on.

* * *

Remus’ room was mostly bare. A yellow piece of parchment stuck to the wall with his classes written in dark ink. A bed in the corner, the mattress hard and lumpy. A chest of drawers, empty. His trunk, full of threadbare robes, worn and torn and patched up more times than he could count, a stack of letters addressed to Sirius, most unfinished and all unsent, a photo album, filled with memories of a life that had long since passed – Remus couldn’t bear to part from it just as he couldn’t bear to look at it, couldn’t bear to see the faces of all those who’d died, and for what?

In a way, it somehow reminded him of the apartment he and Sirius had shared after Hogwarts, the small one with the thin walls, in the heart of Camden. An old sofa with permanent blood stains that reeked of spilled beer and cigarette smoke. A table covered in used mugs, muggle magazines, and empty chocolate wrappings. A kitchenette that was barely used – _Sirius leaning against the counter, wearing nothing but a faded David Bowie t-shirt and boxers, long hair pulled up into a messy bun, one hand holding a cigarette, the other a coffee, smudged make-up around his eyes. He was truly beautiful._

_“Morning, Moony.”_

_“Morning, Pads.”_

_“You only coming in now?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Silence. They barely saw each other these days, constantly on missions for the Order. For Dumbledore._

_“Where’ve you been, then?” Sirius finally ask, careful, too careful to be truly casual._

_“Sirius.” Remus sighed and ran a hand down his face, shrugging out of his coat. “You know I can’t –”_

_“Tell me, yeah,” Sirius finished the sentence, a note of bitterness in his voice, “Just like with everything else...”_

_Remus blinked, taken aback by the sharpness of the words, the hardness in Sirius’ eyes._

_“I’m sorry.” And he was. He hated not being able to tell Sirius about his missions, about the Werewolf packs he had to seek out, the painful transformations, the taste of blood in his mouth, the constant fear of being found out._

_“Yeah.” Sirius smiled sadly, stubbing the cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray next to him. “I know.” The brunet pushed himself off the counter and walked into the bathroom, leaving Remus alone with his aching bones and the nagging suspicious that somehow, somewhere, they’d gone terribly wrong…_

Shaking himself out of the memories, Remus sighed. He wouldn’t get any sleep any time soon. Instead he put on an extra worn sweater, grabbed his wand and left the room, stepping out into the quiet, dark corridor, down the familiar hallways of what once had been his home, towards the Astronomy Tower.

* * *

It was a clear night. The stars burned bright in the sky, oblivious to their audience.

“You should be in bed, Remus.” Remus jumped slightly at the familiar voice behind his back. Years of sneaking around too ingrained to not light a spark of fear inside of him at getting caught.

“My apologies, professor,” he muttered, turning his head just enough to see Professor McGonagall step next to him, head turned up-wards.

“There is no need for that anymore, Remus,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice, “You’re a long way from being a student.”

He didn’t answer, didn’t know what he could possibly say so instead he looked back at the stars. There was Canis Major. Sirius, the Dog star, the brightest of them all.

“He liked coming up here.” Remus didn’t know why he was telling her this. “Sirius.”

A chuckle. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“He always loved the stars.”

There was a moment of silence, both Professors looking at the sky, then – “Forgive me for being too forward,” McGonagall said, “But I’d say he loved the moon even more.”

Remus blinked and turned his head, looked at his old teacher who was looking right back at him, a rare smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

“You knew.” It wasn’t a question rather than a statement, a statement that, now that Remus thought about it, should have been obvious.

“Of course, I knew,” McGonagall replied, “It was hard to miss and after seven years I’d like to think that I know my students fairly well.”

Remus nodded, it made sense, really.

“Do you –” he started but paused, not sur how ask, not sure if he should as, “Did you ever think we made a mistake?” The words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Did you ever think he was innocent?”

There was a look in McGonagall’s eyes, uncharacteristically soft and sympathetic and, coming from anyone else, he would have thought it was pity but coming from her? McGonagall didn’t do pity.

“I think it is the hardest thing to accept that the people we love might not be the people we think they are. I think that war does horrible things to everyone, and I think that you, all of you…you were still so young.” She sounded sad, regretful, and it threw Remus to see her so open, so honest, so pained by the thought. “But to answer you’re question,” she continued, averting her gaze to look back up, up at the night sky above them, “I certainly hoped we were wrong.”

“So did I,” Remus confessed.

They stood silently, shoulder to shoulder, eyes turned skywards, each lost in their own heads. A quiet sort of companionship.

“You really should get some sleep, Remus,” McGonagall said after a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, Remus couldn’t tell anymore, “You’ll need it. The first day is always the worst.”

Nodding, Remus pushed himself away from the barriers. “Goodnight, Minerva,” he said, “And thank you.”

“Goodnight, Remus,” the other Professor muttered absentmindedly, and Remus left her to her thoughts while he, himself, made his way back to his bare room.

* * *

Remus was sure that McGonagall hadn’t meant this when she’d said that the first day was always the worst, he also found that the language of Wizards was lacking in times like these. He was seeing ghosts, not the literal kind, those he could handle, those he was used to, no…the kind that followed and haunted you – the invisible kind.

There, a cupboard that they had used more than once to hide in from a teacher or a Prefect on their nightly adventures.

Here, a blackened, burned stain on a tapestry where Peter had tried to hex the Slytherin Quidditch Captain in their fourth year and missed.

The secret passageway behind the portrait of Percival Pratt, the second-floor bathroom, the ever-changing, ever-moving, ever-winding staircases, all imprinted in his memory, echoes of a past long gone but never forgotten, the shadows of what he, of what _they_ , once had been, lurking behind every corner.

As grateful as he was for Dumbledore to take him in, Remus had the inkling suspicion that, maybe, he’d made a mistake coming back here.

There were so many names and faces he recognized.

Remus remembered meeting Ronald Weasley right after he’d been born. He remembered playing with the twins and Percy, he wondered how Molly’s other children were doing.

Remus recognized Neville the second he walked into Remus’ classroom, so much like Alice and Frank, it hurt to think about.

Remus looked at Susan Bones and thought of her uncle and aunt and cousins who’d died just before it all had ended.

“Settle down, class!” he called out as the third-year Slytherins filed into the classroom together with Hufflepuff. The previous lesson with the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had gone over well enough, even if he’d had to keep Harry from facing the Boggart. It was probably better that way. The cabinet on the desk rattled, affectively hushing the children in the room as they looked on with varying expressions of worry on their faces. “In here,” he began to explain, pointing at the cabinet, “Is a Boggart. Can anyone tell me what that is?”

Several hands shot into the air.

“Mister Malfoy.”

“A shapeshifter that takes on the form of what scares you the most,” the blond answered, his voice somewhat bored but Remus could see in his eyes that he was not as unaffected as he let on.

“Correct. Five points for Slytherin.” Slowly, Remus walked towards the desk and leaned against it, facing the class. “No one knows what a Boggart’s natural shape is, as everyone fears something. Taken by surprise, a Boggart can be a great threat you, however, there is simple, yet affective way to fight it. Laugher. A Boggart’s goal is to make you scared, the way to get rid of it, is to laugh at it. The spell you’re about to learn can, if pared with the right imagination, turn the Boggart into something funny. Please, repeat after me: _Riddikulus_.”

The class echoed the word, some more enthusiastic than others.

“Very good. Now, I want you to line up and think carefully about what you fear and how to make it into something funny.”

Several chairs scrubbed over the floor as the class stood up and hurried into a surprisingly straight line. Remus did not miss the way, Draco Malfoy seemed to be lagging behind, allowing others to push him at the end of the queue.

“Mister Smith,” Remus addressed the first student, “Do you know what the Boggart will show you?” Zacharias nodded, visibly nervous. “And do you know what you want it to change into?” Another nod, smaller this time, as the boy readjusted his grip around his wand. “Then on three I will open this cabinet – One. Two. Three.” And with a simple wave of his wand, the cabinet opened, releasing the Boggart.

* * *

Remus had always enjoyed Halloween – first in Hogwarts with its feast, then, after they’d graduated, with his friends, in his and Sirius’ tiny flat in Camden, getting drunk and eating their weight in candies. Now, it only reminded him more of what he’d lost.

Seeing Harry didn’t help either. The boy was smart, caring, and so very much like his parents. Some part of Remus wondered how his life would have been if things had been different. He’d still be ‘uncle Moony’ instead of ‘Professor Lupin’, he’d have given Harry books for his birthdays and taught him small, harmless jinxes and hexes during the summers, he’d know Harry like his own son instead of looking at him know and seeing a stranger with James’ looks and Lily’s eyes.

It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and Harry had just left his office, clearly bothered by the Wolfsbane Potion Severus had brought, not that Remus could fault him. As far as he knew, Severus Snape was the least favourite teacher of the majority of the student body, with a particular dislike for Harry.

_Had things been different –_

But things hadn’t been different, had they? James and Lily were dead, Harry had grown up knowing nothing of his true nature or family, and Severus Snape had become even more bitter than he’d been at the age of 16.

 _James and Lily would have been so proud of you_ , he’d wanted to tell Harry, _being in Gryffindor, being on the Quidditch team, being such a bright kid…they’d have been proud_.

He remembered, when Harry had been born, how excited James had been, the healers at St. Mungo’s forcing him to take a Calming Draught while Lily had given birth to their son, and he remembered how proud he, himself, had been. A new life entering the world in the middle of a war, a reminder of what they were fighting for. And Sirius – had he already worked for Voldemort, then? Had he already planned his treason?

 _He’s your friend, Moony_ , James’ voice reminded him gently, _no matter what he did_.

“You were my friend, too,” Remus whispered to the book in front of him, blinking away the tears that threatened to run down his cheeks.

Sighing at his own thoughts, Remus shifted in the chair and winced. His joints ached whenever it got this close to the full moon. Pushing away every and any thoughts of the up-coming transformation, Remus got up to make his way to the Great Hall.

* * *

Remus knew fear. He was afraid whenever the full moon approached. He’d been afraid during the war, any owl, any Patronus, could have carried the message of yet another death. Any mission could have been the last.

This was different.

It wasn’t just fear – it was cold terror, it was guilt and shame and something else, something he could not name but that left him paralyzed and covered in cold sweat, his hands trembling as he locked his door with perhaps more charms than strictly necessary.

 _Sirius was here_ , was the only thought running through his mind, _Sirius was here_.

Not only had he broken out of Azkaban, something that should have been impossible in and of itself, but he had also, somehow, broken into Hogwarts.

_But how?_

_You know how_ , James answered somewhat snappishly.

_Do I?_

Sirius’ Animagus form was one possibility, of course, but what if – _what if?_

 _What if, what?_ James retorted, _what d’ya think he did? Learn some tricks from Lord Voldemort himself?_

_What if?_

It was ridiculous, the whole thing was ridiculous, Remus knew this, and yet…

 _Dumbledore should know_ , he thought. He really should. What they’d done, apart from being highly illegal, it should have also been impossible, and telling Dumbledore would surely help him find Sirius.

_Then why haven’t you?_

_Shut up, Prongs._

_Let me tell you why. ‘Cause it’s bullshit, and you know it._

_Shut up, Prongs!_

_And why would Sirius break in on Halloween while everyone’s at dinner when he really wanted to kill Harry?_

“SHUT UP, PRONGS!” The glass of water he’d kept on the chest of drawers exploded into a million tiny pieces, leaving a dark, wet trail on the wood, and Remus stood in the middle of the room, panting heavily. “Fuck!”

The thing was, he also knew what it looked like. Remus hadn’t missed the way Severus had eyed him during the staff meeting earlier, the mistrust, the hatred. It didn’t take a genius to figure out to what conclusion the Potions master had come, and with good reason – no person would be able to simply walk into Hogwarts, not without help. Remus only hoped that Dumbledore wouldn’t believe the same thing.

* * *

As it turned out, Dumbledore didn’t believe the same thing. At least not really.

“I’m sure it comes to no surprise to you that some of the teachers have raised their concerns about your past relations to Sirius Black,” the headmaster had said after the full moon, “I have full trust in you, Remus, and do not believe in any way, that you helped Black break into the Castle, but, to calm any concerns, I feel compelled to ask if there is anything you might want to tell me.”

The calm demeanour of Dumbledore had always agitated Remus more than anything, as if nothing could upset the ever-present twinkle in his eyes as he looked over his half-moon glasses. Just like that day.

“No, sir,” Remus had answered, careful to keep his mind clear, “I’m afraid I have no idea how he could have managed that. It should be impossible.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore had said mildly, “Just as breaking out of Azkaban should be impossible, but here we are.”

“I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

“Not to worry.” Dumbledore had smiled slightly, mysteriously, “I have no doubt that it will all turn out as it should.”

The rumour mill was buzzing with theories of how Sirius might have managed to get into the Castle, but that was to be expected, while Remus was becoming more and more certain that something was wrong. It just didn’t add up.

Why would Sirius break in on Halloween of all days?

Not that Remus had the time or the energy to ponder on such thoughts. The closer it got to the end of the year, the more anxious the students got. And then there was Harry.

“If you knew my dad, you must have known Sirius Black as well,” the boy had said after one lesson in fighting Dementors.

“What gives you the idea?” _What do you know?_

“Nothing – I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too…”

Remus had relaxed. _Nothing important, then_. And yet…

 _He has a right to know, doesn’t he?_ Remus had thought. _He never got the chance to meet any of us, and I’m the only one who could tell him_ , except…he couldn’t. Not now. Not like this.

And then it happened again.

“It appears Sirius Black has once more found his way into the Castle,” Dumbledore announced, “This time, however, he also had access into the Gryffindor Tower.”

There were a few audible gasps from the professors around him while Remus barely dared to breathe.

_Why?_

It was the only question that mattered, in the end.

_Why?_

Because it didn’t make sense. Breaking into Gryffindor Tower with a knife of all things to – what? Slit Harry’s throat?

_Maybe he just went mad in Azkaban._

_Bull. Shit._

And _then_ , Remus found the Map. Their Map. On Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

_M,_

_I know you’re looking for me. You won’t find me. No one will. I’m not going back there. I just want you to know that I forgive you and maybe one day you’ll be able to do the same. I didn’t do it. I know what it looked like, what it still looks like, but it wasn’t me. I’m going to make it right. I’m going to find the one who did it and finally commit the crime I was sentenced for._

_He’s still alive._

_P._

Remus stared in utter disbelief at the letter in his hand, although to call it a letter would have been an overstatement. It was more like a yellowed piece of parchment that was ripped off in a hurry and written on with a shaky hand that wasn’t used to holding a quill anymore.

Remus’ hand, too, was shaking now.

_It can’t be_ , he thought, _he’s lying_.

_And why would he do that?_ Asked James.

Remus, very pointedly, didn’t answer and instead opened the drawer of his desk, pulling out the old parchment that felt so familiar in his fingers. He hadn’t looked at it since taking it from Harry, not prepared for what he might see if he did, not wanting to give into the temptation of looking for Sirius himself, but now…

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he muttered, tapping the Map with his wand and – nothing.

_You won’t find me_ , Sirius had written, and Remus believed him. That didn’t stop him from staring at the Map for the next hour, however, only stopping when there was a sharp knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said, quickly making sure the Map was blank before Severus Snape entered the room, a smoking goblin of Wolfsbane in his hand.

“Your potion,” the other professor announced.

“Thank you.”

As expected, Severus didn’t reply with anything else, simply set the potion down on the desk and turned to leave.

_I didn’t do it_. The words were burned into his brain, repeating themselves over and over and over again.

_He’s lying. He must be._

_And why would he do that?_

“Severus,” Remus said quickly just before the other professor could leave the room.

“Yes.” Severus stopped in his tracks, not turning around. “ _Professor_ Lupin?” Remus had to give it to him that his ability to make such an innocuous word sound like an insult was impressive to say the least.

“I know you don’t like me,” Remus started, careful to not go too fast. Severus snapped arounds, dark eyes fixed on Remus. “And you have every reason not to. What we did to you in school – what _I_ did to you…it was unacceptable. I could have put a stop to it, but I didn’t. When you found me in fifth year…I could have killed you. I don’t think I ever thanked you for not exposing me to the rest of the school.”

“A mere favour for Dumbledore,” Severus sneered.

Remus nodded. “Perhaps,” he conceded, “Still. Thank you.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Is that all?” he asked, and Remus had to supress a sigh. Of course, Severus would see right through him.

“No,” he admitted, “There is no way to ever make up for the way we treated you, to ever apologize for what we did because…I’m the only one who’s left.” Remus gulped, his aching heart drumming a fast rhythm in his chest. “But I am sorry.”

Slowly, Severus stalked closer, his robes balking behind him. “I do not need your apologies, Lupin,” he said, voice and face full of hate and contempt, “I do not want your apologies. I do not accept your apologies.”

_Damnit, Severus_ , Remus thought, _why do you have to be so bloody stubborn?_

“You were a Death Eater,” he blurted out before he could stop himself, “You were friends with some of Voldemort’s most loyal followers – Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Lucius, Barty…Regulus.” Severus flinched at the name and again, Remus swallowed hard, remembering Sirius’ brother.

“Your point?” Severus pronounced, obviously fighting to keep his calm.

“Did you ever hear from any one, in any way, that Sirius was one of you?”

Something snapped, then, something deep in Severus’ eyes and he rushed forward, closer and closer until he stood directly in front of Remus, his face twisted in anger and only inches apart from Remus’.

“Black got what he deserved, rotting away in a cell in Azkaban, with no one but the Dementors keeping him company, reminding him, every single day, of the mistakes he made.”

Remus, for his part, stood his ground, refusing to be intimidated by this bitter and angry men who held onto a childhood grudge like a lifeline keeping him afloat in the ocean. “That wasn’t my question, Severus,” he replied, toeing the line between staying infuriatingly calm and calmly furious.

The Potions Master stepped back, glaring at Remus. “No,” he simply said, “The answer is no.” Before turning around storming out of the room, leaving the door wide open.

Remus took a deep, steadying breath as he slowly walked towards his desk, flicking his Wand at the door which slowly shut with a soft _click_. The Map was still lying on top of his fourth-year essays, blank but waiting and Remus picked it up now, gently tapping it with his Wand. Delicate, dark lines started creeping over the parchment, creating the familiar outlines of the castle, hundreds of little dots appeared, roaming the hallways, but none of them held names that interested him.

“Oh Padfoot,” he muttered, “What have we done?” But for once, the voices in his head stayed quiet. “How do I fix this?”

Some part of him wanted to ask Dumbledore for help except…he’d learned, a very long time ago from very personal experience, that, while Dumbledore was a great Wizard, possibly the greatest alive, he didn’t shy away from sacrificing someone for the greater good. If there was even the smallest possibility that Sirius was, in fact, innocent then Dumbledore would have seen it already and there was no doubt that the Headmaster could have done something about it, could have helped Sirius if had wanted to. But he hadn’t. Whether that was because Dumbledore genuinely believed in Sirius’ guilt or some other reason was anybody’s guess but Remus knew that, in this case, Dumbledore couldn’t help him. Severus had made it very clear that he’d rather go to Azkaban himself if it meant getting Sirius back into his cell. Which only left –

_Minerva_

* * *

Remus knocked on his old teacher’s office door and entered after hearing the faint, “come in”.

“Remus,” she greeted him, her face giving nothing away as usual.

“Minerva.” Remus gave the Transfiguration professor a small nod.

“You look troubled,” she observed, “Have a seat.” It was odd. Remus was a grown wizard, out of school for many, many years now, a teacher himself, but sitting here across from Minerva he felt as if he was 16 again, caught in the hallway after curfew to sneak a Niffler into the Slytherin common room. “Tea?” Minerva asked, “Biscuits?”

“Tea would be nice,” Remus answered, glad for the chance to put off the inevitable even for a few minutes it took for the steaming cup of tea to appear in front of him. “I just spoke to Severus about Sirius,” he began, when there was no point of stalling any longer. Minerva merely raised a single eyebrow at him, silently asking him to continue. “You know what he was. Before. During the War. You know it was him who gave most of the names to the Ministry after the War.”

“Yes, I’m well aware.”

Remus nodded and sipped his tea. “He never gave Sirius’ name.” Remus hadn’t realised how true that was and how much it had bothered him, until know.

“Remus –” Minerva started but Remus cut in, he wasn’t finished yet.

“He didn’t give Sirius’ name,” he repeated, “And we both know he wouldn’t have missed that chance. And I just asked him if he ever had even the slightest suspicion that Sirius was one of them…and he said no.”

The strictness in Minerva’s eyes melted ever so slightly, giving way for something soft. “That’s hardly prove,” she said gently.

“I know it’s not,” Remus agreed, “But it’s something.” _It has to be_.

There was a moment of silence in which Minerva seemed to heavily debate with herself before seemingly coming to a decision. “Very well,” she sighed, “How can I help you?”

Remus exhaled, scanning the office, the two pieces of parchment burning holes into his pockets. Minerva didn’t have any of the usual portraits in her office, merely charts and drawings of various acts of Transfiguration and a large picture of her old Quidditch team. It seemed safe enough and yet…pulling out his wand, Remus cast his usual privacy charms causing Minerva to give him a look that was both surprised and proud and maybe a little exasperated.

“If I told you something,” Remus began, licking his lips, “Would you swear to keep it for yourself? At least for now?” He was taking a risk here, he knew, and yet…

“Naturally,” she replied, seeming almost offended at the idea of breaking a fellow colleague’s trust.

“That includes Professor Dumbledore,” Remus emphasised, hoping he was making the right decision here.

As expected, Minerva’s perfect mask broke, her eyebrows shooting up. “Are you saying you don’t trust Albus?” she asked.

Remus hesitated. “I’m saying,” he started slowly, “That Dumbledore isn’t the kind of person to consider a single man’s life when the whole of the Wizarding community is at stake,” he explained, weighting his words carefully, “I’m saying that he either believed Sirius is guilty or he didn’t in which case he had his reasons not to do anything about it. I’m saying that Dumbledore has his own agendas. He always had.” _I had to find that out the hard way_ , he didn’t add. He was grateful for Dumbledore, of course he was, without the other man, Remus would have never been able to be where he was right now, but that debt had been payed a long time ago. At least for Remus.

“Very well,” Minerva agreed, “I will keep this from him. At least for now.”

Remus nodded. “Thank you,” he said before taking a deep breath, “In our second year, James, Peter and Sirius found out about my…condition,” Remus began to explain, smiling faintly at the memory. They had all been so young. “They didn’t care. In fact, they wanted to make it easier for me. By fifth year they were unregistered Animagi because Werewolves are less dangerous to animals, because they wanted to spend the full moons with me, because they wanted to help me.” He still remembered that fist time, the excitement, the fear, the overwhelming sensation of _being loved_ …

“I – I must admit,” Minerva stuttered slightly, “That I had my suspicions. For a group of teenagers, they seemed very interested in the technical aspects of becoming an Animagus. Unnaturally so. But I never imagined…becoming an Animagus is an impressive feat but doing it at such a young age? And without help or supervision? It’s…unheard of.”

“But they did it. For me.”

“Well…” Minerva said, visibly struggling to keep her composure, “That certainly changes things.”

Remus nodded in agreement. “It does. I believe Sirius used his Animagus form to escape Azkaban and enter the school grounds. The school.” The Werewolf chewed on his lower lip. This was it, this was the moment he had to reveal his own betrayal. “There’s more.”

“Oh?”

“We – we spent quite a lot of nights exploring the castle. We probably found out more about its secrets than anyone else and we – we wrote a Map. It shows all of the Castle and its grounds, all the secret passageways, and all the people. Where they are. What they’re doing. Argus Filch confiscated it in our last year. He couldn’t read it and didn’t know what it was, but he kept it. Somehow, the Map found its way to Harry and he figured out how to use it. He did use it.” _Of course, he did_ , the James in his mind supplied, _what else was he supposed to do? Use it for his Potions notes?_ “I found it on him and took it back,” Remus continued, “I used it to look for Sirius myself but without success. He doesn’t want to be found but…he used one of the students’ pets to deliver a message to me.”

Minerva stared. The professor was evidently lost for words, torn between pride and fury. Seizing the moment, Remus pulled out Sirius’ letter from his pocket and wordlessly handed it to Minerva who took it. Stunned.

“And you believe him?” she asked after reading the note.

“Yes,” Remus answered without hesitation, not sure where the sudden confidence came from “Sirius is many things, but a liar has never been one of them and – Minerva, he has no reason to trust me. Not after everything that’s happened. Bringing me this put him in danger, and he knew that, but he still took the risk.”

“And do you know what he means?” Minerva questioned, “He’s still alive? Who’s still alive?”

Remus took a shaky breath, steeling himself before answering, “Peter.”

The silence that followed rang in his ears, a heavy coat that pulled him down, down, down, leaving no room to breathe. Choking him.

“Peter Pettigrew?” Minerva asked eventually after what felt like an eternity. Remus simply nodded. “But, he’s –”

“I know,” Remus said quickly, cutting her off, “But what if… _what if_?”

What if, indeed. If Peter was still alive, if he had made it this far…Remus wasn’t quite ready yet to think about what that could mean but still… _what if?_

“Remus,” Minerva all but whispered, her eyes wide and Remus knew, he knew, she had done the proverbial maths and come to the same conclusion as him even if he wasn’t ready to admit that yet, even if some part of him still didn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. “Remus, those are very serious allegations.”

“More serious than what Sirius faced?”

A muscle in Minerva’s yaw twitched, the faintest shadow of a smile however inappropriate right now. “Even if Peter was still alive,” she finally said, “How are you going to prove that?”

“I don’t know yet,” Remus admitted, sunning a hand over his face and into his hair, “But I will. If Sirius speaks the truth and he didn’t do it then…” He shook his head. The mere thought of it making him sick, imagining Sirius in that cell for all those years. Innocent.

“Well.” Minerva leaned back in the chair, her face set in determination. “Rest assured, you won’t be alone.” There was something in her eyes, as if she was already regretting the words but she didn’t take them back. “I will do what I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Minerva.”

“Don’t thank me just yet, Remus,” she replied, genuinely smiling this time, “This will not be easy and it may not lead to anything.”

“I know.” And he did. He knew perfectly well that he might not like what he would find if he went down this road but – “But at least I’ll have tried.”

* * *

April bled into March which gave way to June, the weather constantly getting better and warmer, luring the students outside, while Remus remained in his office. When he wasn’t correcting homework and preparing the exams, he stared at the Map, looking for any sign of Sirius or Peter but without luck. It seemed both Animagi had decided to stay off school grounds, outside the reach of the Map and Remus.

Until they didn’t.

The students had just finished their exams and Remus knew Hagrid’s Hippogriff, Buckbeak, would be executed – sad but not really a pressing matter for the professor – while he, Remus, was staring at the Map once again, watching the three dots labelled Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, sneak out of the Castle. He wasn’t interested in not letting them, in punishing them for wanting to be there for their friend, but he also couldn’t look away, too anxious to make sure Harry was okay because after all Sirius was out there. And Peter. Maybe.

_Peter._

_Peter Pettigrew._

The name was there, black ink on yellow parchment, together with the three children, making their way back from Hagrid’s. He watched in horror as Sirius appeared on the margin on the Map, as Peter ran and ran and ran and as the children followed and –

Vanished?

_Of course…_

Of course. It made so much sense, Remus could have slapped himself for not thinking of it before now. Where else would Sirius hide? Where else would anyone hide who didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be bothered, didn’t want to be found? It was perfect.

Before he could think about it, Remus had jumped to his feet and rushed out of the room, already halfway down the stairs towards the Front Gate when he remembered Minerva.

Swearing under his breath, Remus quickly sent a Patronus her way.

_They’re in the Shrieking Shack._

It would have to be enough. There was no time to wait, to argue, to plan, he had to get there, and he had to get there now.

Entering the Whomping Willow after all these years left Remus with a bitter sort of nostalgia, remembering the time he had walked these tunnels, the times _they_ had –

“WE’RE UP HERE!” someone shouted. Hermione. “WE’RE UP HERE – SIRIUS BLACK – _QUICK_!”

No matter how much he had thought of this moment, dreamed of it, imagined it in so many different ways shapes and forms, none if it could have possibly prepared Remus for the reality of seeing Sirius again.

Alive.

At wandpoint.

“ _Expelliarmus_!”

Three wands flew through the air, straight into Remus’ hand but he barely noticed, too focused on Sirius.

_Padfoot._

His hair was long and tangled, dirty, his eyes seemed hollow, lacking the usual glimmer of mischief, his cheeks had fallen in, his clothes were racks of fabric holding together only by a threat and possibly magic, and he looked old. Too old.

He was the most beautiful thing Remus had ever laid eyes on.

Remus’ mind was blank. Everything he wanted to say, to ask, to shout and scream and cry, it was all gone, leaving nothing but white noise.

“Where is he?” were the words that left his mouth.

Slowly, face completely blank, Sirius raised a hand and pointed at Ron.

_Of course…_

Again, it should have been obvious.

“Professor.” Harry’s voice barely reached Remus in his haze. “What’s going on –”

Instead of answering, instead of even acknowledging the boy, Remus did what he’d been wanting to do for the last 12 years – he reached for Sirius’ hand and pulled him into a tight embrace, breathing in the scent of grime and dust and blood, feeling the bones underneath Sirius’ skin, screwing his own eyes shut to stop the tears.

“I DON’T BELIEVE IT!”

The scream broke the spell and Remus carefully pulled back from Sirius, turning towards his students, trying to think of a way to _explain_ –

“You – you –”

“Hermione –”

“– You and him!”

It took a lot to hold back a sigh, to not roll his eyes, to not shake his head because – well…she had every reason to mistrust him. Remus was well aware of how this looked. Of how it had always looked. But he had to make them understand, had to make them listen.

“You’re wrong. I haven’t been Sirius’ friend.” _Not for a long time_. “But I am now – Let me explain…”  
She wouldn’t. Of course, she wouldn’t.

_Too clever for her own good…_

“If I’d been a bit cleverer, I’d have told everyone what you are!”

“We already know.” Remus certainly wasn’t the only one to jump at the unexpected voice coming from the door. “Remus, a bit more of a warning would have been appreciated.”

“My apologies, Minerva.”  
Minerva McGonagall gave a curt nod, barely noticeable yet there, as she fully entered the dirty, small room. “Speaking of Werewolves,” she said, giving Remus a hard look, “I ran into Severus on my way here. He said you forgot your Potion today?” A moment of silence, not more than a heartbeat, but enough to unleash the panic in Remus’ chest. “Which means,” Minerva went on, ignoring the terror on her colleague’s face, “That this will have to be continued in the Castle.” She made a vague gesture to the room at large, sparing Harry, Ron and Hermione a long look, no doubt to make sure that they were okay, before turning towards Remus. “And I will have to inform Albus,” she added and was it just Remus or did she look regretful?

The Werewolf nodded. “I understand. Thank you, Minerva.”

“Yes, well. You’re very welcome.” It was hard to tell what exactly the other professor was thinking, her face giving absolutely nothing away as Remus handed the three wands to her. “Now.” She turned to the students, waving her own wand at Ron, conjuring a splint for his leg. “Mister Weasley, I belief you have a rat on you.” Ron nodded, his eyes wide in confusion and maybe fear. “Please, give it to me.”

“What? Why?”

“Mister Weasley, please,” she repeated, transfiguring a piece of wood on the floor into a small cage and holding it out for Ron, “If it is indeed a regular rat, no harm will come to him.”

Ron hesitated, the struggling rodent still in his hands, but eventually he gave in.

“Thank you, Mister Weasley.” Minerva tapped the cage with her wand and securely held it under her arm. “Mister Potter, Miss Granger, if you’d please be so kind as to help Mister Weasley make his way to the Infirmary and tell Poppy to check in on professor Lupin in the morning. I can assure you –” she added as all three children opened their mouths in protest, “That all questions you might have will be answered tomorrow.” Clearly unsatisfied but with no way to object, Harry and Hermione helped Ron to his feet and slowly led him out of the room and down the stairs. “As to you, Mister Black,” Minerva said, her lips pressed into a thin line, “I believe Remus when he says that you are, in fact, innocent, however this is not a question of belief but of evidence, and I hope you will forgive me for my distrust but I cannot let you enter the school without taking precautions.” Remus glanced at Sirius whose face had gone even paler, his hands shaking ever so slightly, but he nodded. “Very well – _Incarcerous_.” Thick ropes began to wind around Sirius’ frail body, affectively binding him. “We will go straight to Albus’ office, no Dementors will come anywhere near you, and if your story is true, you will walk out the school a free man.”

Sirius opened his mouth, but no words came out. Remus felt as speechless as Sirius looked, trying to find a way to say thank you, _thank you for doing this, thank you for believing me, thank you for helping me, for saving him, for everything_ , but there was none.

And as Minerva led Sirius towards the Castle, Peter Pettigrew under her arm, as the pain grew stronger and stronger and stronger, Remus sank to the dirty floor, finally letting the tears fall for all that he’d lost and all that he might get back.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

* * *

“You know, I had really hoped to never see you in here again.”

Remus groaned. He was lying on something hard and cold.

Pain.

He’d forgotten about the pain.

“Take this, my dear.”

Something was pushed into his hand. A vial. Hand shaking violently, Remus swallowed down the liquid, closing his eyes as it ran down his throat leaving a burning trail in its wake.

“Very good.” The vial was taken from him again. “You should feel better in no time.” Something soft was laid over him, covering him, stopping the shivers tearing through his naked body.

When Remus opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Madam Pomfrey, smiling down on him. “How are we feeling, then?” she asked.

“’m okay.” _As okay as I’ll_ _get_ , he didn’t add.

“I have more of the Potion for you, dear, and you must eat.”

“I’m fine,” Remus repeated but took both the potion and the muffin the matron thrust upon him.

“You will be,” she commented, clearly unpleased with his behaviour, “I would like to keep you under observation for the rest of the day, but –”

“No.”

“—I already know your answer,” she finished her sentence and sighed. “Albus would like to see you as soon as possible,” Poppy added, “However, I’d be more than willing to help you if you’re not feeling up it.”

“No, no I…I want to talk to him.”

“Very well.” Standing up, Poppy cleaned off the dust from her robes with a simple wave of her wand and handed Remus a fresh set of clothes. “Take your time at least. That was not an easy moon.”

_I know, I was there…_

Ten more minutes, that’s all Remus allowed himself before walking back to the Castle, ignoring the ache in his bones. His hands were still shaking, although for different reasons, and his stomach was very successfully tying itself into a pretzel, sending waves of nausea through his body as he came closer and closer to Dumbledore’s office.

What if something had gone wrong?

What if the Dementors had gotten to Sirius?

What if Dumbledore hadn’t believed him?

“Jelly Slug.”

The stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s office gave way to the familiar staircase and, swallowing down the overwhelming trepidation, Remus entered the office.

Weirdly enough, Remus had always enjoyed being in Dumbledore’s office, it used to make him feel safe and protected, now, seeing the old man sit behind his desk, his face unreadable, it only made him feel sick. Sirius was sitting with his back to the door. Peter was nowhere to be seen.

“Albus,” Remus forced himself to say, proud of the steadiness of his voice.

“Remus,” Dumbledore said softly, gesturing towards the other chair, “I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to join us.”

“Where’s Peter?”

“Ahh.” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. “Peter Pettigrew has been taken in for questioning by the Aurors. His trial will be soon and, once found guilty, he will be kept in Azkaban.”

“And Sirius?” Remus asked, looking at the man in question who stared resolutely at the wall behind the headmaster.

“Cleared of all charges.”

That…was good…wasn’t it?

“You wanted to see me,” Remus said instead of dwelling on any other thoughts threatening to take over.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore agreed, “Sirius here has already told me his side of the story. I would like very much to hear yours.”

Remus gulped. “I’m grateful for what you did for me,” he began, “Taking me in as a student when no one else would have. I owe you a lot. But I also abused the trust you put in me.” He took a steadying breath, forcing himself to meet Dumbledore’s eyes. “James, Sirius and Peter found out about my condition and became illegal Animagi to help me through the full moons and I allowed it. We regularly left the safety of the Shack to explore the school grounds. We wrote a Map of Hogwarts with all the secrets we’d found.”

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.”

“Yes,” Remus admitted, nodding his head, “Those were our nicknames. After we’d left school – after we’d left school, Sirius and I moved in together, as did James and Lily. Peter…Peter found a shared apartment on the outskirts of London. We stayed friends. We went on missions for the Order. I – I went on the missions you sent me on…reaching out to the Packs in England…after Lily and James’ wedding, after so many had died…we knew there was a spy. You told us as much. Everyone became…closed off. We didn’t know who to trust anymore and Sirius…I was away so often, never telling him what I was up to, where I went…he thought it was me. And I – I thought it was him. Peter had told me, he’d seen Sirius talking to Death Eaters. Seen him in Knockturn Alley. And I believed him.” _You told me not to trust anyone_. “We fought a lot, back then, and then… and then…I didn’t know Peter was the Secret Keeper.”

Silence, then –

“I’m sorry.” Sirius’ voice was rough, gravelly, filled with anguish and sorrow.

“So am I,” Remus whispered, though he didn’t dare look at his friend – were they friends? Could they survive what had happened?

They certainly had been, once.

Friends.

Brothers.

Lovers.

Everything.

“I believe you,” Dumbledore said, “And I have no doubt that the Wizengamont will, too.”

And that…that was good news…and yet…

“Did you know?” Remus blurted out, no longer able to keep the questions inside. “About the change, did you know?”

“Neither James nor Sirius have ever informed me of it.”

“Yeah, but did you know? Did you suspect? Did you ever have any reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, Sirius was innocent?”

“Remus –” Sirius started but the Werewolf cut him off.

“No, Sirius, this matters!”

“I understand that this is highly upsetting for you, Remus,” Dumbledore said. Remus wanted to smash something. “But I can promise you that my actions were genuine.”

There was a hand, calloused and weak, taking hold of Remus’ own, a gentle finger stroking over dry skin, trailing the scar on Remus’ thumb.

Friends.

Brothers.

Lovers.

Everything.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I do not hold it against you to feel betrayed, Remus,” Dumbledore replied but Remus barely even heard his voice, simply let the headmaster’s words wash over him without taking in their meaning, his focus, his whole being, narrowed down that one hand where their skin touched, the prove that Sirius was alive. Alive and here.

A future yet to come.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the last day of term and they were in Remus’ office.

Dumbledore had allowed Sirius to stay in Hogwarts until the trial as long as he stayed out of the students’ sight.

They were in Remus’ office, sitting side by side on chairs, each holding a steaming cup of tea as they stared out of window.

“Being a teacher suits you,” Sirius remarked. After the moment in Dumbledore’s office the brunet had kept himself at a distance, never making eye contact, never saying more than necessary. Invisible walls built up to keep them apart.

“I enjoy it.”

“It’s always been your dream.” This was true. He’d always wanted to be a teacher, always known that it would never come true – no school would employ a Werewolf, after all – always hoped that maybe, one day, things might change. “I’m happy for you.”

Remus took a sip from his tea.

“What will you do now?” he asked eventually, not knowing what else to say, wanting to finally get over this – this awkward silence, this distance, this guilt. Finally tear down the walls.

“Dunno.” Sirius shrugged, sitting otherwise perfectly still. “Depends.”

“On what?” Outside the office, Remus could hear the occasional student walk past – tap, tap, tapping down the hallway – could hear voices and laugher and life. Next to him, Sirius breathed. Deeply. Consciously. Remus wet his lips and tried again, chipping away at the bricks, “I got their Will, y’know. James’ and Lily’s.” A reaction, at last. It was nothing more than a flicker of steel-grey eyes, but it was better than nothing. “After they arrested you, I was still at the flat for a few days and I took it with me. I read it. You’re Harry’s legal guardian. They wanted you to look after him.”

“And what do I have to give, Moony?” Sirius whispered.

“Love.”

“Love?” There was a hint of disbelief in Sirius’ voice now. Mockery, maybe. Designation. “I’m a bloody mess, Remus.”

“Not much changed then,” Remus replied drily. He was taking a risk here, he knew, but he also had to get Sirius to start fighting again. As cruel as it was, as much as it pained him. He had to. Somehow.

A snort. “I’m serious, Moony.”

“Well, I bloody well hope so.”

“Stop making jokes about it!” the brunet snapped, finally – _finally_ – looking at Remus. Really looking at him. “I am _fucked up_ , okay? They locked me up, 12 years, for something I didn’t do. And every day, every godforsaken day, all I wanted was to get out and kill Peter with my own two hands. And every day I was reminded of what I’d done! James and Lily died because of me. Because I didn’t want to be Secret Keeper. Because I made them choose Peter. And you – the way I treated you – how can you forgive me for that?” He was panting, the life that had entered his eyes draining as fast as it had come but it was a start. It was something Remus could work with.

“Very easily, Sirius.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“And when have you ever known me to do as you say?” Remus challenged, holding Sirius’ gaze, keeping him in the _here_ and _now_ , not allowing him to slip away yet again, to go places Remus could not follow him, no matter how much he wanted to

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered after a few minutes or maybe hours, the words ringing in the heavily silence between them.

“I’m sorry, too.” They stared at each other, hazel brown eyes meeting steely grey. The walls were still there but smaller, thinner, almost see-through now, penetrable. Remus let out a chuckle – _look at us_ , he wanted to say, _look at what’s become of us_. “We’ve got to stop apologising to each other.”

Something softened in Sirius’ gaze as he looked away. “I know.”

Remus took a deep breath. In and out. “Sirius,” he sighed, setting down his half-empty cup on the table, “Sirius, listen to me, please, just listen.” He waited for the minuscule nod the brunet gave before going on. “What happened to you, to me, to Lily and James…it hurts. It hurts a lot. And I’m not saying that hurt will go away, I’m not saying it will be fine, because it’s not fine, It’s unfair. We were so young, fighting a war we barely understood. But I am saying that, with time, there will be space for that hurt, space that isn’t there right now. I’m saying you have a life. And I’m saying I’d like to live it with you. If you’ll have me.”

He watched as Sirius swallowed heavily, his Adam’s apple working in his throat. “I didn’t want to believe it was you,” he muttered, his voice still rough and so different form what it had been, “I know what I said…but that was just words. That was just me trying to convince myself. Remus you…you have no idea how scared I was. Then. I didn’t want to believe it was you. Peter said – but he probably did that on purpose, didn’t he? Fucking rat.” Sirius shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. It looked better now, after a few showers and proper meals. “You could have done so much worse to me than any Death Eater…you could have broken my heart.”

Fading echoes of memories, gentle touches in violent times, softly spoken words in the darkness. A kiss goodbye.

“I loved you, too, you know.” _So very much_. “I think I still do.”

“We can’t go back.”

“I don’t want to,” Remus whispered, his fingers aching to reach out, to take Sirius hand. “I want to go forward. With you.”

The brunet looked up, his eyes filled with so many emotions, so many questions. “Never known you to be so direct.” The hint of a smile on chapped lips.

“You’re not the only one who’s changed.”

“No.” Sirius wet his lips, eyes dropping south ever so slightly. “No, I suppose I’m not.” He gulped again, struggling with his words and Remus waited. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

There was hope in his eyes and Remus’ heart soared at the sight.

“We could try,” Sirius said, softly, so softly it was barely audible, “We could try and see where it goes.”

Remus’ heart sung. “I’d love that.”

It was the last day of term, they were in Remus’ office and two hand slowly entwined between two chairs, shily. The start of something new.

* * *

There was a knock on the door, timid as if whoever was on the other side wasn’t sure whether or not they wanted to receive an answer.

Remus gave Sirius a meaningful look and waited until a big, black dog stood in his place before calling out, “Come in!”

The door opened revealing one Harry James Potter, his shoulders set into a tight line. “I’m sorry professor,” he rushed out before Remus had a chance to say anything, “I know it’s late. I can leave. It’s just…Dumbledore said –”

“Come in, Harry.” Next to him, Sirius turned back into his human form and in front of him, Harry’s eyes grew wide as he entered the room and closed the door with a _soft_ click. “Would you like some tea?”

Harry’s eyes snapped back to Remus. “Er – sure.” He took a careful step closer, then another, not seeming to know what to do with himself.

“Hello, Harry,” Sirius said, sounding as awkward as Harry looked while Remus made a cup of tea for the teenager. “I guess I owe you a lot of explanations.”

“Professor McGonagall already told me everything,” Harry answered and Sirius nodded.

“That’s good,” he muttered, “Still, if there’s anything else you want to know…” He trailed off, looking at Remus in what seemed like a desperate attempt to get help but Remus made sure to bestow his full attention to the teapot in front of him.

“You knew my parents,” Harry blurted out, “Both of you.”

“Yes,” Sirius answered, one word filled with so many memories.

“Could you – I mean, would it be okay if you –”

Remus poured the tea into the cup and turned to Harry, setting the cup down on the table. “Sit,” he said, gesturing towards one of the chairs, “Drink. Listen.”

The thing with the past was that it lived on.

Remus remembered the first time he’d met James, all those years ago on the very first day. A shy, quiet child reading a book on the Hogwarts express and a loud, obnoxious boy who loved being the centre of attention.

Remus remembered the first night in Hogwarts, remembered his own nervousness, remembered Frank crying silently into his pillow, remembered Peter keeping up a lively stream of chatter, remembered Sirius and James eyeing each other suspiciously.

The past lived on.

“Your dad was a right git when he wanted to be,” Sirius said.

Remus remembered hexes and jinxes and pranks and more detentions than he could count.

“And your mum – Merlin, she hated me. She hated all of us. Except Remus, of course.”

_Ahh, yes…Lily_. Sweet Lily, smart Lily, strong Lily.

“Why?”

“Like I said. Your dad was a right git when he wanted to be. Kept getting into trouble to get her attention and your mum – she was not impressed.”

Remus could hear her now, swearing up a storm and cursing all the gods in the Heavens and James Potter in particular – _insufferable toerag, I don’t know why you’re friends with him, Remus_.

“What changed?”

_Everything_ , Remus thought.

“She found out about my condition,” he told Harry, “And about what they’d done to help me. Then, of course, both your parents were made Head Girl and Head Boy in our last year…James learned to go easy on the pranks, at least where Lily could see. And Lily…Lily learned that James was more than the heir to a rich, pureblood family who hexed people for fun. But mostly…mostly I think they just grew up.” _We all did_.

“They sound great,” Harry said, his eyes – Lily’s eyes – suspiciously wet.

“They were,” Remus agreed, “Best people I ever met.”

“They would have been proud of you,” Sirius added. He wasn’t quite smiling, but it was the closest Remus had seen him get to looking peaceful. Content even.

Harry gave his godfather a look that spoke of gratefulness, forgiveness, regret. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Harry.”

There was more. There was always more, but for once, Remus thought, they had time.

“I – er – I’d better get back and pack my stuff.” Harry stood up, his hair as tousled as ever and glasses slightly askew. The last rays of sunlight fell through the window of Remus’ office, onto Harry, and for a second it was James standing there.

“Before you go,” Sirius spoke up, making Harry pause on his way to the door and turn back around, “James was like a brother to me. Your grandparents took me in when I was 16. They were more of a family than my own parents ever could have been and…I don’t know if you know this but – Lily and James – when you were born they –” Sirius faltered, tripping over his words, and Remus laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to go on. “I’m your godfather.”

Harry nodded. “I know.”

“Right. Well. I’d understand if you’d rather stay with your aunt and uncle but…if you ever need a place to stay…”

“What – live with you?” Harry asked eagerly. Too eagerly. There was a hope in the boy’s eyes that made Remus more than just a bit uneasy. “When can I move in?”

Sirius froze. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I – I’d need some time to sort everything out,” Sirius answered slowly, “The trial should be in a week or two – once my name is cleared, I – _we_ –” Remus gave a subtle nod and squeezed Sirius’ shoulder “—would need to find a place but…a month. Give me a month. I’ll pick you up myself, promise.”

There wide smile spreading on Harry’s face, the unbound happiness, it was catching in a way, and Remus found himself smiling too as Harry left to go back to the Gryffindor Tower, to pack his trunk and, no doubt, tell his friends his news of a new home.

* * *

The next morning found Remus sitting in the Hogwarts Express once more – London bound. Next to him on the seat was a dog, head resting in Remus’ lap, eyes closed and enjoying the scratches behind his ear while Remus was engrossed in a book. They were the only ones in the compartment – _their_ compartment.

The date of the trial was set for five days from now, the _Daily Prophet_ already speaking of the great failure that was the Ministry’s justice system, dragging all the names through the mud that had had anything to do with Sirius’ arrest, spreading rumours of conspiracies and betrayal. It seemed, Remus thought, as if for once, luck was on their side.

_Do me a favour, Moony_ , James’ voice said, use it, _use it as good and as much as you can_.

_Believe me, Prongs_ , Remus answered, smiling at the book, _I intend to_.

And the train rattled on.


End file.
